Alive?
by Black Ice
Summary: COMPLETED STORY. Epilogue posted 113 Due to technological advancement, Harry's parents are brought back from the dead. But Harry isn't exactly happy. Rated for mild swearing- An Angst story. Please RR
1. Part One

**Hello out there, this might be what people call a "writer's block" fic. I'm hoping it'll help me get over mine. Anyway, this isn't your typical happy Harry and his parents are reunited story. If you don't like angst stories, please don't read this one. You've been warned.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry, Sirius, Remus, Lily, or James. **

_Alive_    

"Sirius, what are you doing?" Harry asked as his godfather pulled him into the living room of Remus' cottage. It wasn't his birthday, it wasn't any holiday; there really wasn't any reason for Sirius to be so excited. But for some reason, Sirius was smiling and he was pulling him across the room with such strength that Harry wondered if his arm was dislocated. A few moments later, they entered the living room. In the corner of the room stood two people who were about Sirius and Remus' age. One was tall with black hair, the other a head shorter, but with flaming red hair. Harry didn't have to ask who they were. He turned his back and walked out of the room, leaving the two standing in the corner, without a word.

            It had been sixteen years. Sixteen fucking years since they had died. He didn't need to reminisce, he didn't need to mourn. He was over it. He had been over it since the day that Peter had been caught, almost two years ago. He didn't have to keep a constant vigil. His life didn't revolve around his dead parents, no matter what people tried to tell him. 

            Harry picked up a pillow and threw it as hard as he could at the wall. It landed with a soft thud and floated to the floor. He should be happy. Somehow, they'd managed to do the impossible, bring two people back from the dead. He'd rather have two people he'd actually cared about come back from the dead though. The two people he absolutely didn't want to have in his life were sitting in Remus' living room and they weren't going to leave. They were going to haunt him, bring up memories of the shit he'd been through, they were going to turn his life back into what it was before they caught Peter. They were going to make his life a living hell all over again. The boy-who-lived would become the-boy-whose-parents-now-lived. He was sick of the nickname, sick of the life that had been chosen for it. Why couldn't he have been a normal boy with a normal family who loved him and didn't go off dying or being attacked on almost a yearly basis. It wasn't a life that a teenager should live. Why was he so special?

            "Harry?" Harry heard Sirius' voice from behind his door, then soft knock. Sirius pushed the door open and walked in. "Harry, we thought you'd be happy. It's the latest technology, straight from the Ministry."

            "Why should I be happy, Sirius?" Harry said, facing his godfather, tears starting to stream down his face. "Why should I be happy? They've ruled my life since they died. Everybody judges me on them. They left me here, alone, to be raised by the Dursleys! Why should I be happy?" Sirius looked at him in awe. Harry jumped to his feet, the tears flowing more freely. "Why the fuck should I be happy?" he screamed. 

            "Because they're your parents." Sirius responded. Harry shook his head, pushing the thought away from him. 

            "They stopped being my parents sixteen years ago when they left me here to fend for myself. They stopped being my parents when I realized that to hold onto the pain of their deaths wasn't worth the effort. It wasn't worth the time; it wasn't worth the feelings, the emotions. I'm not going to be kissed by a woman who calls herself my mother and I'm not going to be hugged by somebody who calls himself my father. I don't have any parents." Sirius looked at him with a stunned expression. Hurt slowly started to fill his eyes, then sorrow followed. "Leave me alone." 

            "Harry, I think you're making the wrong decision." Sirius began. Harry silenced him with a look. 

            "I don't give a fuck. Leave me alone. Get them away from me and leave me alone." Harry got off of his bed and walked over to the door and pulled it open. Outside it stood the tall man who Harry had once mourned as his father. "This is unbelievable. Get away from me."

            "Harry," James responded, pushing his way into the room. Harry looked at him with a look of such hatred that he cringed. He pushed his way past the man and into the living room. Remus and Lily stood there, both of them staring at him. 

            "Harry," Lily began, she took a few steps towards him. Sirius and James appeared, blocking the hallway exit. He was trapped, no escape. 

            "Don't speak to me." Harry yelled. Lily and James glanced at each other, the hurt evident in their eyes. James opened his mouth to say something, but Harry interrupted him. "Don't speak to me!" 

            "Harry," this time it was Remus who took a step towards him. "Harry calm down. Everything is going to work out. You parents want you to move into a house with them so that they can get to know you a little better. Everything is for the best, Harry." 

            "What best, what part of this decision do I have? Those people who you are calling my parents left me sixteen years ago to fend for myself. I don't know them. I have no idea who they are or what they want with me, but I don't want anything to do with them. I want them to get away from me; I want them to leave me alone. I want my freedom." Harry turned back towards Lily and James, who were now standing together. "Give me back the freedom you took away from me when you died sixteen years ago."

            "Harry, we died to protect you," James began. Harry looked towards the unfamiliar man who called himself his father and the unfamiliar woman who called herself his mother. 

            "I don't have any parents. I wish that you'd let me die sixteen years ago when Voldemort attacked me." Harry pushed his way past Sirius opened the front door to the cottage and left. The people who he'd left behind stared after him, watching Harry's tall frame grow smaller and smaller until he disappeared. However, in the distance, Harry felt truly happy for the first time in his life. He finally had his life back. 


	2. Part Two

**Well, I was meaning for this to be a one-part story, but so many people asked me to continue that I decided I would. I'd like to remind people that this is still a Writer's Block story. Parts might vary in how well they are written because I'm trying to regain my Muse.  Warning: if you don't like Angst fics, don't read this story. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Harry Potter.**

            _Alive_

__

__

__

Harry walked as if he was in a drunken stupor, swaying from right to left and stumbling every few steps. His mind was clouded with what had just happened. They though he'd be happy? He would have been happy had he not been living in their shadow for sixteen years. He was about to begin his last year of Hogwarts, his last year of innocence and all they could do to help him with his new beginnings was to throw this unexpected turn of events at him. This wasn't what he needed right now. Nobody ever needed something like this. When parents died, they were dead and the death was accepted. To bring somebody back was to replace everything that they'd known for their entire life, almost to make their life into a lie. A lie that nobody wanted to live.

            "Harry!" somebody called, obviously breathless. Harry continued to walk, almost breaking into a run when he felt a large, cold hand on his shoulder. He felt himself being forcefully turned around and came face to face with none other than his senior, twin in appearance except for the eyes. 

            "Get away from me," Harry let out, his voice low. He yanked his arm away from his father's touch. Sixteen years of being alone had taught the seventeen year-old how to avoid situations, especially since most of those years had been spent with the Dursley's. The cupboard under the stairs was looking especially good right now. 

            "No. Can't do that," James continued to follow him down the street. "Where are you going to go? What are you going to use to pay for it?" With the last statement, Harry turned around to look the older man in the face. Startled, Harry took several steps backwards and had to remind himself that age didn't affect the dead. James was almost a carbon copy of him. 

            "Maybe the fortune you left me when you died? Or, if you've already managed to cut me off from that, I can use all the money that my fans send me every year. You've gotta do something with that, don't you?" Harry turned back around and started to walk away. He once again felt a hand on his shoulder, but this time ignored it and let if fall away from him as he started into a light jog. 

            "Harry, the money is yours. I suspect you've been using it for years." James called. Harry turned around and looked at him. He was standing several meters away, the light drizzle that had just started pasting his black hair to his face. 

            "Then get the fuck away from me and keep you and your big-ass wife away too. You aren't worth shit to me, you here? I don't want you around me. I don't want to live with you. I don't want to become a happy-go-lucky Potter, and I don't want to skip in circles holding hands and singing."

            "I'll cross that one off the list!" James yelled as Harry turned away from him and began to jog again. Pain started to enter his chest, hitting him in the heart every few seconds. Harry pushed it away and tried to focus on his mission. He had to get away, he had to leave behind all the pain that those two people had caused him. He had to be able to live his own life, outside of their shadow. His thoughts began to circle around him, never ceasing, always the same. Obsession filled his mind and stayed until he reached his destination almost forty-five minutes later. Downtown London and the Leaky Cauldron.

            "Tom, I need a room, I'll pay in the morning, no questions please?" Harry said as he breathlessly reached the counter. Tom nodded, pulling the keys off of the wall and giving Harry a toothless smile. 

            "Anything for the-boy-who-lived." He smiled again and Harry felt as if he was going to be sick to his stomach. He followed Tom up the stairs and into a smaller, shabby room that reminded him of his room at Remus' house. Tome left the keys by the bedside table and quickly left, leaving Harry to his thoughts once again. He picked up pillow and heaved it at the wall, the thump not big enough to satisfy his mood. He picked up the pillow again and began to jump on it, leaving the yellowed-feathers to float silently down to the floor around his feet. On his last jump, Harry tripped and fell to the floor among the feathers. He pulled the last of the mutilated pillow towards him and crawled onto the bed and began to sob, finally falling asleep hours later. 

            The next morning he awoke to Hedwig's soft hooting. He looked up and saw the snowy owl impatiently hooting and flying around the room, a small package and letter attached to her foot. Harry pulled them off and opened the package and pulled out his wand. Hesitantly he opened the letter. 

            _I thought you might need this. Every wizard should have their wand. I hope that you'll come home soon. You might not realize it, but I loved you when you were one and I love you now that you're seventeen. Your Mother. _

Furiously Harry ripped the letter to shreds and threw it on the floor next to the remains of the feather pillow. Without thinking he stomped over to the desk and picked up the quill and parchment that Tom left his guests. 

            _Stay out of my life and away from me. I don't need you and I don't love you. Stay the fuck away from me._

            Moments later, Hedwig flew away from the Leaky Cauldron. She had a letter attached to her leg and the broken remains of the wand in a small package.

**Thanks to _RadiantMoonWolf, Audrey, Kim, Minna, Emma Malfoy, Chery27, and Prongsjr_ for their positive review_s._ Thanks to the _anonymous reader_ for your response, however if you write something like that, I would like to know why you think that.  __**


	3. Part Three

**Hello out there. I'm sorry these parts are so short, but I've always been about lots of short chapters instead of several longs ones. When I write, I do a page or two and then I keep the ideas in mind so that I'll have something to write about the next time. Anyway, I'm still using this story to get over my writers block, so I'm not sure about when I'll be updating. If you want me to email you when parts come out, leave a review and tell me. **

**If you don't like Angst fics, please don't read this. However, this part isn't very angsty.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry, James, or Lily Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Tom, or any of the places mentioned.**

_            Alive_

Harry fingered the phoenix feather in his pocket as he watched Hedwig fly out the window and into the world. Breaking his wand had to be one of the hardest things he'd ever done, but it felt right. By destroying it, he felt as if he'd finally severed the last tie that connected him to that life, that part of him that he didn't want anything to do with. The phoenix feather was symbolic of his past; it would remind him of what he didn't want to be again. And it would also make a new core in a wand that he'd have Ollivander fashion for him. 

            Harry left the mess in the room and walked down the stairs and into the dining room. The usual few people began to stare at him, awing at the fact that he was Harry Potter, the boy who lived. He wasn't the seventeen year old with the messy black hair; he was a survivor, an icon for all who lived around him.  He couldn't just be himself; he had to live up to his reputation, something that had always bothered him. At least he hadn't grown up in the spotlight; he had Dumbledore to thank for that. 

            "G'morning," Tom said to him, giving him a toothless smile. "What'll it be?" Harry took a seat in a booth in the corner of the small dining room and asked Tom for coffee. An abandoned newspaper lay in the seat next to him, it's headline announcing itself proudly. **James and Lily Potter alive due to technological advancement**. Angrily, Harry put the paper back onto the seat next to him and lay his head on the table. Now he'd defiantly be the-boy-whose-parents-lived. There was no way around it. 

            "Good thing about your parents, Harry," he heard, looking up to see Tom holding not only his coffee, but a plate of eggs and bacon as well. "They were nice people, Lily and James, you'll love them" He set the plate down and walked away.

            "How do you know?" Harry hissed after him. "How do you know?" He picked up the paper once again, noticing that the bottom of the article mentioned that Harry hadn't received his parents well. Once again the press had pushed its way into his personal life, and most likely would make him look like a fool in front of everybody. "Yes, I hate my parents, I wish they'd die," he whispered to himself, pulling the coffee cup up close to his nose and inhaling the inviting fumes. He took a small sip and grimaced at the bitterness. 

            "I'm most sorry to hear that, Harry," a voice from in front of him calmly announced. Startled, Harry dropped the cup, shattering it and throwing the contents onto the uninvited guest. 

            "Shit. I'm…" Harry trailed off when he saw who his visitor was.

            "You're what?" Sirius said. "God Harry, you run off, don't tell us where you're going, and then you send back your wand fragments? You have any idea how scared we were?" 

            "I don't know, I guess I'll go ask Prongs and his wife, seeing that the two of them are most likely sitting right behind me." Harry turned around, but didn't catch a glimpse of the redhead or the stag. He turned back to Sirius, an un-amused look on his face. "Is this some sort of trick? Wait until the kid has turned his back, then surround him?"

            "Works pretty well, doesn't it?" Sirius shot back, motioning for Remus to pull a chair over, preventing Harry's escape from all sides. Lily and James were sitting across from Sirius and Remus had pulled the chair to the front of the booth.  Harry turned towards the window and picked up his plate, facing towards the back of the booth and began to eat. 

            "You can't ignore us forever," Sirius taunted. He heard somebody reach out and slap Sirius' arm and his quick yelp of pain. "What'd you do that for?" He heard the motion of the hand again, and then heard Sirius sigh. "This is normal. You haven't been around him long enough."

            "Talking about me behind my back isn't going to earn you points." Harry calmly called, filling his mouth with the eggs that Tom had given him. He could sense Sirius' frustration with him, even though this kind of thing had happened before. He'd ignored Sirius for weeks on end despite the constant pleads and the very real looking puppy dog faces that he'd occasionally wake up to.  

            "Yeah, but at least then you'll have to listen to us," he heard again. Harry almost allowed himself a smile. Sirius was more of a father towards him then James would ever be. Sirius had been there for most of his teenage years in one way or another, even if it took him several months to cross the Atlantic Ocean to get there. _But Sirius betrayed you_ a little voice reminded him, _Sirius is the one who brought them into your life and who wanted to make you live with them. He wanted you to leave. _

            "Look, Harry, how long are you going to sit like that?" this time it was an unrecognizable voice, therefore meaning it belonged to James. Harry took the last bite off of his plate and then placed it over his shoulder onto the table, keeping the fork in his hand. He slowly chewed and began to play with the fork, pressing it into the back of the booth. "Sirius, how long?"

            "Jeez Prongs, have some patience for once. You just don't know him that well yet." Sirius answered. Harry could detect a bit of impatience in his voice. If James was anything like what Sirius had told him, he wasn't one for waiting around. 

            "Harry, turn around!" he heard again, this time defiantly from James. Harry looked over his shoulder and tossed the fork directly at Lily. She let out a small yelp and slid to the side, hitting James. Remus and Sirius quickly turned towards them, then realizing the trick quickly turned back, but all of Harry that was still in the booth was a leg, and soon that too was pulled out the hastily opened window. 

            Harry popped his head back up towards the window and stuck his head in, a small grin on his face. His expression turned somber as he looked towards Lily and James. "For the last time, Leave. Me. Alone." He pulled his head back and turned around and walked down the street, playing with the phoenix feather in his pocket. He'd have use for it very soon.

            **Thanks to _Tempestuous _(did I spell that right? I always love getting reviews from you, update your story soon!)_, Hermione_ (thanks for the advice, I see what you mean)_, MinaPotter _(I tried to do that in this part, but this story is focusing on Harry and his thoughts and I don't want to switch the POV randomly)_, RadiantMoonWolf_ (did you get my email?)_, and Demonstar. _******


	4. Part Four

**Well, here it is, part four.  It's a little longer then usual, but please don't get used to it. Anyway, I need to say that this is still a Writer's Block fic, written purely to help me regain my muse. Anyway, I'd like to remind people that this is rated PG-13 for mild swearing.  Oh, if you want me to email you when new parts come out, please leave your email in a review.**

**This is an angst fic.  If you don't like reading angst, please stop here. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any part of his world. **

_Alive_

Harry mindlessly wandered through the streets of Diagon Alley. After he'd escaped through the window of the Leaky Cauldron, he'd just turned his back and walked away, mindlessly fingering the phoenix feather in his pocket. Mr. Ollivander would hopefully be able to do something with it. He didn't want to think that his wand was broken in vain. 

            _The wand is a symbol of your past_, a voice in the back of his head reminded him. He absently nodded to himself, thinking momentarily of the two other symbols of his past that had come into his life recently. Were symbols something to be forgotten? Was it right of him to simply ignore the two of them, or should he acknowledge their unwanted presence? There was that part of him, however small it was, that wanted to simply jump into their arms, be the little Harry Potter they'd abandoned sixteen years ago, go to their house, and be happy. The majority of him rejected this image favoring one of complete immaturity and hostility. If he treated them badly, then they wouldn't want him around. If he acted immature, then they wouldn't want to be associated with him. Either way would prevent further heartbreak, prevent further loss, prevent attachment. 

            "Mr. Potter," a raspy voice called, pulling him away from his thoughts. He looked up to see Mr. Ollivander standing outside of his shop using one long finger to beckon him towards it. He opened the door, an out-of-place bell sounding as it opened. He led Harry towards the back of the shop and held up a small bag. "I received these from your mother the other day. You snapped your own wand? Where is the feather?"

            Harry pulled the feather out of his pocket and wordlessly handed it to Mr. Ollivander. The feather was slightly crinkled, yet still looked like the ones that Fawkes displayed proudly whenever Harry was in the room. 

            "Ahhh, this is not good. The wood is splintered, unrepairable." Mr. Ollivander said, running his long fingers along the broken holly. 

            "Make another one, with the feather." Harry said. Mr. Ollivander looked towards him, his fingers no longer absently stroking the broken wood. 

            "That cannot be done, not without hours of work and days of patience. Such a task has never been accomplished" He looked at Harry over the tips of his glasses, pushing the phoenix feather back towards him. "You'd best choose another wand."

            "No," Harry said. He pushed the feather back to Mr. Ollivander. "You make me another wand. You'll be well-rewarded for your effort." Mr. Ollivander looked at him and slowly nodded.

            "Come back in a week." Harry nodded and left the store. He knew of wizards who'd gone through wands almost daily, wizards whose wands had been splintered in accidents or even completely snapped. Those wizard's wands had been repaired. Why couldn't his? 

            He began to walk back toward the Leaky Cauldron, his thoughts once again elsewhere. There was nowhere he could go, nobody he could talk to who wouldn't remind him of everything he was trying to escape. He didn't want to have to deal with the pain anymore, but who could he turn to? Ron would want to meet his parents, then get flying lessons from James. Hermione would want to learn about the technology that had brought James and Lily back to life. She'd want to know how to mix the technological advancement with modern magical advancements to prevent death all together and create a world overpopulated by old wizards and witches who had lost their minds but not their bodies centuries ago. It was at times like this when Harry wondered why he kept himself to only Ron and Hermione, almost ignoring the three other boys and two other girls in Gryffindor. 

            He pulled open the door to the Leaky Cauldron. Luckily for him, Lily and James weren't there anymore. Sirius and Remus were still sitting at the same booth from earlier. Harry could feel their eyes on him as he walked into the Inn and towards the counter. 

            "Tom, please don't tell anybody else that I'm staying here," he whispered. The toothless man nodded, giving Harry a weak smile. 

            "Mr. Potter, there's a girl waiting to speak to you. She's waiting upstairs outside of your room." Harry nodded and gave Tom a reassuring look. Tom looked somewhat relieved. "I won't tell anybody else that you're here."

            "Thank you," Harry walked out of the room and up the back staircase, towards his room. He had a very good idea of who was waiting for him, and if it was the red-haired woman who referred to himself as his mother, he'd leave London and move to the states. 

            "Harry," he heard a familiar, welcoming voice call out. Harry sighed, his relief evident in his voice. It was only Hermione. "Harry, we need to talk." Harry wordlessly opened the door to his room and let Hermione in. Her eyes swept the mess that he'd made and she could almost feel her disgust. She walked over to the bed and sat down and looked at Harry. "What's going on? You ran away from Sirius and Remus and your parents."

            "They aren't my parents," Harry quickly interrupted. Hermione looked at him with sadness in her eyes. Harry looked away, "my parents died sixteen years ago." 

            "You ran away from them, you break your wand, you messed up your room, and then you ran away again. What's the purpose of all of this? Why are you pulling a stunt like this? Harry, you're killing them. Those people, the ones who you refuse to acknowledge died sixteen years ago to save you damn life, Harry. They deserve some attention, they deserve to be thanked. They deserve a hug." Hermione looked Harry directly in the eye. "And you're being a stupid, immature, spoiled brat to them. They don't deserve this. Don't you think that it's hard for them too? They were just unwillingly yanked from their deathbeds! They had no say in this matter and yet you ignore them and hurt them beyond belief." Hermione paused and wiped a tear away from the corner of her eye. "They don't deserve this." 

            "Are you finished?" Harry asked. Hermione looked at him, her emotion quickly switching from one of sadness to one of anger. "Do you think I asked for all of this? When they died, they took away my freedom. They took away my identity and left me with this." He pulled up his bangs and pointed to the lightning scar on his forehead. "If I had a choice, I would have died sixteen years ago in Godric's Hollow along with them."

"Harry, they didn't take away your freedom, they gave it back to you." Hermione said quietly. Harry looked at her, his rage beginning to boil inside of him. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Harry cut her off.

"Who sent you? Was it Sirius? No, this is more along the lines of Remus. Of course, you wouldn't come in here and spew lines like this on your own. You have to be prompted because all you care about is academics." Harry watched as Hermione recoiled at his words. She stood up and walked towards the door, yanking it open. 

"Before I leave, Harry. I want you to know something." Her voice was low and so filled with anger that Harry had to look away from her. "I wasn't prompted to come here. I came on my own. I came because I thought that you were my friend. I came because I thought that I could help you. I thought that maybe I could change your mind and help you realize that those people that you insist on hurting are two of the most loving people on this entire shit-filled world. I hope you rot in hell. I seriously do." Hermione turned her back on Harry and slammed the door behind her leaving Harry alone with her words. Leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. Leaving Harry alone with his anger. Leaving Harry alone with his sorrow.

**_Thanks to _****Nicky, RadiantMoonWolf, _and _Hikahi _for the reviews. I appreciated them. _**


	5. Part Five

**Wow. When I said that I might take awhile, I honestly didn't mean that I'd take a month. I really have no excuses, but I can try. Hmm…I've been caught up in my junior year of high school, new job with lots of hours, and I'm still going through Writer's Block (anybody got a cure yet?) Anyway, this part is written VERY DIFFERENTLY then most of the other parts, or at least in my perspective it is. I took a slightly darker root then usual. I'll try (stress try) to update within a week. **

**This is an angst fic. If you don't like to read them, please stop here.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of Harry Potter or his world. **

_Alive_

__

__

__

__

__

__

The room was empty, yet so completely full of Harry's remorse and anger that it almost shined out the window into the now-darkening Diagon Alley. The bright glow illuminated from Harry himself, his body so entwined in his feelings that he failed to notice the silence that had engulfed the area around him. There had been almost no knocking on his door since Hermione's unfortunate visit. Sirius and Remus had both attempted to speak to him, but his cold nature had frightened them away. He'd become snappish and selfish, all within a twenty-four hour period.

            Hours ago, Hedwig had given him a backwards hoot and flown from his room, only to return with a note from Ollivander that stated his wand fragments were being sent to an expert in Russia who the richest of wizards visited when they had wand problems. The expert hadn't publicized himself in years and consequently hadn't received much visits. Only the richest of wizards knew of him and the wisest of wizards knew to stay away. But it wasn't his reputation that had captivated Harry. It was the pure fact that the wizard-his name was Popovsky-hadn't heard of him or his current family troubles. Popovsky preferred to keep himself from the known world, focusing mainly on his highly illegal, yet legal, works. 

            Harry read the note from Ollivander again. He'd almost memorized it, but the words still seemed not quite to be true. 

_Mr. Harry Potter, _

_            Despite the large sum of money you have offered me for the repair of your wand, it is unfixable to the likes of me. I do not possess the knowledge or skill to complete such a task, for it has never been accomplished. Therefore I have chosen to withdraw myself from your task and send it to another. His name is Mihir Popovsky and he resides in Russia. I have taken the liberty of sending him the feather._

_Mr. Ollivander _

_On a side note, it might interest you to find out that Popovsky hasn't been in contact with any known sole for a few dozen years. _

            He was going to go. 

            There was no honest reason he could think of _not_ to go. Popovsky would have his wand and Harry would have his freedom. He'd already liberated him from everybody who was holding him back. Everybody except Ron. And how much did Ron matter to him? Ron was his faithful sidekick, the person who was there to question his motives and keep his head from swelling to large. He would become angry when he thought he was being mistreated, which was exactly what Harry was doing at that moment. He hadn't contacted him with the news of Lily and James and hadn't run to him when he needed someplace to stay. Ron was probably feelings used and useless, a sidekick without a reason and Harry didn't need an extra emotional burden keeping him in check. Hermione, Sirius, and Remus had done enough of that for him. 

            The pure idea and thought of Russia excited him. The secluded area where Popovsky lived probably hadn't even heard of Voldemort, much less James and Lily Potter and their son, the boy-who-lived. Nobody would miss him until the beginning of school. Nobody except the heard of reporters that followed him around, James and Lily, and his guardians. None of them mattered to him. None of them meant a thing to him. They were unimportant, pure burden in a situation that should have warranted none. 

            There was a loud knock on his door. Harry quickly snapped out of the trance that had consumed him for almost the entire day and cautiously opened the door. 

            _"No, wait! DON'T!"_

_"__Petrificus Totalus__"_

Everything was dark.

            When Harry awoke, he was in a room that he didn't know, bound to an unfamiliar chair, yet being watched by two very familiar people. 

            "Hello Harry." 

            "What do you want from me?" Harry yelled, squishing his eyes shut and refusing to look in front of him. The person let out a subtle, yet slightly hysterical laugh.

            "You know what we want. We want the best for you." 

            "Get away from me. You can't leave me alone, you have to kidnap me. You can't just accept the fact that I've lived a life without you and that I'm rejecting you now that you're back. You can't accept that you're not a part of who I am, what I was, or who I'm going to become. Just let me go."

            The hysterical laugh continued. Both Potters stepped closer to Harry, Lily overshadowed by her taller husband. "Harry, you have to trust us. We love you. We died for you."

            "You should have stayed dead," Harry used his only weapon against them and spat. "Let me go." 

            "Go where?"

            "Away from here. Let me go!" Harry heard himself yell, but he also watched as James pointed his wand towards him. His words started loud and crisp and slowly became a blur, blending slowly and cleaning together. 

            "Harry, we only want what's best for you. We gave up our lives for you seventeen years ago…can't you show us a little gratitude, a little respect? We loved you and we love you now. You're killing us_, can't you see? Just by being around us. We loved you and you died. You're friends keep dying, keep turning on you. You killed Cedric, don't you understand? You're going to kill us if you keep this up. You don't want this on your mind, do you? Look at her. You're killing your mother. And worst of all, you can't even call us your parents! Just do it Harry. Relinquish your fear,let-go-of-yourself-stop-being-so-selfish-and-let-us-talk-to-you-live-with-us-you're-killing-yourself-your-not-alive_…Mr. Potter, are you alright?"

Harry looked up to see Tom staring down at him. He was sprawled across the hallway of the Leaky Cauldron in front of his room. The door to his room was slightly open, Hedwig hooting from her cage in a loud, frightened tone. Tom extended his hand and Harry grasped it, pulling himself up. 

"Were Lily and James Potter here tonight?" Harry asked, his eyes traveling up and down the hallway.

"I have no idea, Mr. Potter." Tom answered, but his eyes conveyed otherwise. Harry walked into the room and grabbed his bag and Hedwig's cage. Hedwig let out another loud hoot and tucked her head underneath her wing.

"Where are you going, Mr. Potter?" Tom asked. Harry quickly pushed by him and ran down the hall, away from what he knew and what he didn't know, but running into the unknown.

"Russia."

**I'd like to thank all my reviewers from Part Four. Hopefully you'll still be around for this chapter. Draco'sgal (wow, thank you so much),**

** Tempestuous (I was trying to portray Harry from another light and I guess it worked. Harry can't always show the light side of himself. Look at me, I'm talking in Star Wars terms.)**

** hedwig7up (Harry isn't with anybody right now. I'm trying to keep him isolated for obvious reasons.­)**

** Clavel (thank you) **

**RadiantMoonWolf (thanks)**

** Moonlight (I'm sorry I didn't continue so quickly, I've been experiencing writer's block)**

**Lady Gabriella of Queensc (I'm not sure if my story is ever going to reach Hogwarts. He isn't crying because he's trying to break off all ties with loved ones.)**

** Miz Zag (I explained that my parts would be short. Maybe you should read the author's note at the beginning of the parts.) **

**arryandermionegotogether (I'd like to see proof that Harry's one desire is to see his parents. Also, just because I chose to take another root with my story doesn't mean I'm mean.) **


	6. Part Six

**My writer's block came back, and this caused me not to update this story for an entire year (wow…). Anyway, I haven't completely given up on writing fan fiction; I just took a break and wrote original fiction for awhile.  I am planning on writing one more part to this story which should be posted within a month. This part is written in a very different style than the first five were. There isn't as much swearing and there is a lot more description than angst. I think that this part is much more mature than the ones that I posted before and because of this, there might be some editing going on later. **

**Anyway, Disclaimer.**** I do no own Harry Potter or any of the characters. They are all owned by J.K. Rowling. I own Mihir Popovsky and that is it. **

_Alive_

Russia. The one place he hadn't expected his life to take him and the one place he now wanted to be. Nobody knew him here. Of course, they'd all heard his story, but Voldemort simply hadn't affected the nation as much as he had terrorized Great Britain. He wouldn't have to hide from the public and he wouldn't have to worry about a newspaper reporting about his every movement. He'd be slightly free of expectations, but he wouldn't be free of his memories. 

They'd still be there. Every corner he turned and direction he faced he could still see them. They're faces haunted him. He couldn't get away. There was nothing he could do to escape them...except to run. 

They'd done so much to him. They'd died. They'd left him alone in a world where being alone wasn't a position that anybody wanted to be in. Because of them, his childhood has been wasted. Voldemort had hunted him like a predator hunted prey. He hadn't been able to be a normal child. There wasn't anyway for them to change that, nor was there any way for him to change the anger that he felt at them each time he even thought of their names. However, they weren't at fault in this situation either. Nobody has asked them if they wanted to return. They had been randomly chosen and his consent hadn't been asked. They had all been taken advantage of. But they hadn't needed to have attack him and force him to listen to Lily's tears and James's threats. There wasn't any reason he shouldn't continue to be mad at them. 

Two days after his unfortunate mishap with Lily and James, he arrived in the small wizarding village in Russia. Nobody knew who he was. The innkeeper silently handed him the keys to a room and had grabbed the other end of his trunk. His eyes had quickly dashed across the fringe of bangs along Harry's head and then looked away just as fast. It felt good to be recognized without words. Finally, somebody who did not judge him at all, somebody who just left him alone and didn't think twice about it. 

When his trunk had been deposited in his room, Harry set out once again, however, this time venturing further into the cold. Ollivander hadn't told him where he might find Mihir Popovsky, just that his wand feather had been sent to the unknown wizard. Harry wandered down the snowy streets of the village and looked into various shops, a silent hope that he would find the man in one of them, but he knew that it wasn't going to happen. All of the shops looked so inviting, brightly lit and warm and places that a wizard that hadn't been seen in years would definitely not be. The snow had begun to pierce his toes as he pushed his way into a mildly seedy looking pub and sat down at the bar. 

"Firewhiskey," he requested. The bartender didn't look up nor did he question Harry's age as he passed the drink across the counter. Harry took a long sip from the cup, and then coughed as the liquid burned his throat. 

"First drink?" a man asked him. Harry quickly shook his head and took an even longer sip, causing his throat to feel as if it had been set on fire. 

"Let me give you a tip, Mr. Potter," Harry looked up in alarm. The pub was completely empty except for the two of them and the bartender had stepped into the back room. "Yes, I know you are Mr. Potter."

"How do you know who I am?" Harry asked. If this was another trick played by Sirius and Remus to get him to come back to England, then he was going to throw up. He wasn't going to go back and face the dead.

"The trick is, Mr. Potter, to drink the firewhiskey slowly so it does not burn the throat. Then when you wake up the next morning with the hangover, your throat will not be as harmed as it would have been if you had gulped the entire beverage." The man looked towards the window, never meeting Harry's eyes. 

"Who the hell are you?" Harry asked. He stood up quickly from his stool and accidentally knocked the glass from counter. Shards flew all over the counter and landed at the man's feet. 

The man took out a wand and almost carelessly waved it. "_Reparo._" The fragments flew together and quickly formed a new glass. "Not as good as before. Now you are missing the drink. However, you will not injure yourself on the pieces when you choose to leave, as I am guessing you will soon want to." 

Harry looked towards the man once again. The anger that had been boiling inside of him began to force its way up his throat. He was going to explode any second. The man looked at him and took a swing from his own glass. "I'll ask you again. Who are you? Did James and Lily Potter put you up to this? Or was it some sort of joke of your own doing. Let's go harass Harry Potter today, he's feeling vulnerable and the two people he thought he would never see have sprung themselves at him from nowhere and he's scared and angry about it. He's scared and the famous boy-who-lived is never scared of anything. And he's angry because he had finally learned to live with it and now everything has to change again. You can't spring something like this. Death is forever. Nobody should be able to cheat death, no matter how famous their son is." He looked at the man. A second later, the man put his wand on the counter, and turned back to his drink.

"I am not a joke. I had heard the rumors that your parents had returned, but had not believed them up until now. I am sad for you, Mr. Potter. I am sad that you can not see the opportunity in what has been presented to you. It is not a curse, Mr. Potter, to get a second chance to know those who you have felt abandoned you. It is a blessing, but you cannot see why." He stood up and pushed the wand closer to Harry. "Your wand presented me with a great challenge, Mr. Potter. Please do not be as foolhardy as to break it again. Good day to you." There was a crack, and the man Disapparated. Harry looked at the place where he had been moments before, torn between the wand that was now in his hand and the memory of what had been said to him. 

Nobody should have to deal with what he had to deal with. He had gone through to many things in his life and it wasn't fair for them to spring more on him. However, neither he nor James and Lily had gone about any of this in a mature fashion. There wasn't any way to maturely handle this. It just wasn't possible. 

Harry stood up and walked out of the pub, his wand tucked neatly in his pocket. The snow continued to bite at his toes, but it didn't bother him anymore. He knew what he had to do. And it wasn't escape. 


	7. Part Seven

**This is the last part. There may or may not be an epilogue, depending on the feedback I get for this part. I figured that I should write this right away before I lost all motivation to do so. I'm going to try to finish up the other two fics I started next and after that I'm going to solely focus on one-part stories. Writing multiple-chaptered fics doesn't seem to be working.**

**This part is yet again written in a different style than its predecessors. I like how it came out and it gets to the point without any swearing. It is written in a much more mature fashion than parts 1-5.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter universe.**

****

****

****

_Alive_

__

__

Or maybe it was. Maybe escape was the option. He'd treasured the idealistic view of the word for his entire life. If he didn't like a situation, then he'd just leave. Nobody could bother him anymore. Russia could be home for him. He could transfer to Durmstrang and spend the final year of school in an unknown place with unknown people who hopefully knew as little of his story as possible. Maybe this would give him a taste of the "normal" childhood that Dumbledore had sentenced him to many years ago. 

Or maybe it wouldn't. Maybe it would just be another way for the inevitable to come and strike him where it hurt. No matter where he went or what he did, they were going to find him. They were going to haunt his every movement. He wasn't going to be able to push them from his head like he pushed an unwanted thought away. As much as he didn't want to admit it, they were as much a part of him as the scar that Voldemort had left him all those years ago. 

Harry turned and looked back over the frost-bitten town that he'd spent the last several days in. After he'd gotten his wand back, he'd sat up in the rented room and only had come down for meals. There was so much to think about. There was so much to wonder about. Why had they chosen him, of all people, to conduct this experiment on? The scientists, magical or not, still should have asked his consent before bringing Lily and James back to life. But now it didn't matter. They were there. They were alive. It was a chance that most children had dreamed of. His conscience told him he should be there, but his heart told him he shouldn't. There were too many conflicting view points. Too many variables to consider. 

He slowly picked up his trunk and attached it to his broomstick. The broom, a present from Sirius, his father's oldest friend. His godfather. The closest thing he had to a father. But now he had a father. Would it make his relationship with Sirius any different? Harry quickly grabbed his head in his hands and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt his entire body tense as tears started to well in his eyes.

"Why here? Why now? WHY ME?" he said, a whisper at first slowly loudening to a yell. He stamped his feet in the cold bits of snow. "I don't deserve this." He looked up and down the street in a quick glance. There wasn't anybody there. Nobody cared. Or maybe he'd scared them all off. He slowly mounted his broom and started to make his way back to England. Maybe Hermione would be willing to talk to him.

~~

_I hope you rot in hell..._ her parting words to him started to play over and over again as he started his descent into the England. The ride had gone incredibly smoothly and he had managed to coax himself into a doze while he was flying. The world had passed him as quickly as he had flown through the clouds. There had been no thoughts and no emotions as he had flown. There were simply landmarks and several rain storms which had left him chilled, yet slightly happy. 

He dismounted his broom in the alley way behind her house. Hermione's family was very well off. They were able to pay for all of her Hogwarts equipment and other necessities while still living in fairly comfortable quarters. She'd always been quiet about her situation, as not to upset Ron, but Harry could tell by the way that she was never asking for anything, that she wasn't begging either. He placed the broom and his trunk in the corner and walked the quarter mile to her house. The minute he rang the bell, she answered. Her face was incredibly distraught and she fell into his arms the minute she could tell who he was. 

"Oh, Harry! I'm sorry. I really am." Harry nodded and tried to push her away from him, but she tightly held onto his neck. "Harry, I have so much to tell you."

"What's going on?" Harry asked. "Where are they? I don't want to speak to them quite yet." Hermione pulled away and motioned for Harry to enter the house. Once inside, the two took a seat on the couch and Hermione handed him a clipping from a newspaper. Harry unfolded it and read it, then put his head back into his hands. 

**_Revived couple found dead_**

            Recently revived couple, Lily and James Potter, was found dead this morning in their temporary London residence. The two, who were killed by He-who-must-not-be-named, were brought back from the dead last week after being the subjects of Ministry experimental charms. The cause of death was unknown, but according to a Ministry official, "the charm obviously was meant for having a short amount of time with the deceased member of the family. I guess it will work for putting last minute affairs in order after death, but nothing more than that…it appears from further examinations that the charm will only work once." 

            The Potters were staying with their longtime friend, known werewolf, Remus Lupin. When asked the details of their death, Lupin answered, "I got up this morning and they were gone. They were sitting at the table as if their souls had been sucked out of their bodies. It was horrible." 

            The Potter's son, Harry, was not available for comment. However according to several sources, he has not been anywhere near the cottage for at least a week. Several eyewitnesses state that they saw him leaving the premises after having a loud shouting match with another one of Lupin's house guests. 

            "I did this," he whispered. "It's all my fault." He looked at Hermione and then at the scrap of paper. "And I didn't even tell them…" he trailed off, his voice breaking into sobs. He hadn't wanted this to happen, no matter how many times he'd wished things would go back to normal. The pain of their first meeting washed over him. He crumpled the clipping into a ball and threw it. All of the meetings and the running away, had they known? They must have. They'd known that it would be over. They wanted to give him a chance and he'd thrown it back in their faces. He'd never get another one.

            Harry pulled his freshly fixed wand out of his pocket and stared at it. He'd broken it to make a statement to them. There wasn't anything left he could do. He had no way out of this mess. He would be accused of being irresponsible and unsympathetic for the rest of his life. He'd be pegged as the-boy-who-only-cared-about-himself. There was only one thing he could do to make this all go away. There was only one way to stop this from haunting him for the rest of his life. 

            "Look," he whispered to a crying Hermione, "I was never here. You never showed this to me. Got it?" Hermione did a combination of shaking her head and nodding and looked away. 

            "Where are you going?"

            "Don't ask me that."

            "But, I need to know. I'll come with you."

            "You can't."

            "I'll call Sirius. And Remus.  And Dumbledore!"

            "You can't. Leave me alone."

            "Don't go. I mean it. I won't let you."

            "_Avada__ Kedavra." _

And it was all over. 

**Thank you to all who have reviewed this entire story. If you would like to see an epilogue posted, please leave a note stating so. **


	8. Part Eight

**I'm sorry I'm so bad at this. Updating regularly has never been a strong point of mine. However, it is senior year and I've been busy with applications and college visits.  This is the Epilogue. **

**One last note: _Thank you to all who followed this story through the hiatus's and the weeks it took me to get parts out. I truly appreciated all of your reviews. ___**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter world, it all belongs to J.K. Rowlings.**

_Alive_

They never knew who said it.  One dead on the carpet and the other crying hysterically. The one left alive refused to talk and was placed under supervision at St. Mungo's. Nobody knew what the survivor would attempt. Nobody knew much of anything for certain. 

However, there was one thing. They knew about how unhappy Harry had been. They knew about how angry he was to have something like this thrown at him without his permission. They knew better now. They left the dead alone. The healing process took long enough, they didn't need to make it happen a second time. 

The funeral took place later that week. The Hogwarts teachers, Remus and his giant black dog, and even the Minster of Magic had all attended. Ron had given a speech, followed by one given by Mrs. Weasly. _They will be missed. I hope they rest in peace. They needed the peace. _Nobody left the room without tears.

The survivor watched from the outskirts of the crowd, a nurse standing close by, watching as always. The nurse took a quick break, needing to go to the bathroom and left the survivor alone, and the one who lived was alone Five minutes was all it took. The survivor was gone with a stolen wand and a heavy cloak. Nobody ever heard from the survivor again. 

However, when the survivor finally reached the destination, there was neither grief nor any remorse. There was only freedom. The course had reached its natural climax. There was only one conclusion. It was time to be reborn. It was time to be Alive.

****


End file.
